


Purity, He Said

by BadassCompany



Series: The Things We Did (But Never Spoke Of) [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Bottom Dean Winchester, Castiel's Trenchcoat, Gay Sex, Goodbyes, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Castiel, POV First Person, Smut, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:45:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9080989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadassCompany/pseuds/BadassCompany
Summary: Purgatory was pure. They were free to fight and fuck as they pleased.And that last night together; well, that's what Cas holds onto tight. The memory of that rough, clawing, but above all pure, love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I always though there was so much potential in Dean and Cas' time in Purgatory. Here's my take on it!

_"Where's the angel?"_ He'd shouted, carving his way through Purgatory. Looking for me. And when he found me, when he told me he wouldn't leave without me, my heart was heavy. I had already decided to stay here, as penance for the things I had done. He wouldn't have understood, so I kept it to myself.

 Still, I was troubled. Deceiving him never came naturally to me, and underneath it all, there was a temptation to forget my penance, to leave with him.

 

We shouted ourselves hoarse in the first few days; angry, bitter words. He said all the things he couldn’t say to me when I was insane, partway broken. Benny would glower at us and go to patrol a circle. Our shouting matches were often interrupted by Leviathans, drawn by our voices. Those days were a blur of anger, regret, happiness at our reunion, rivers of blood, his refusal to leave me, my shouts of how damn sorry I was and then, of course, there was the sex.

Every chance we got, every time it was dark and as safe as it ever would be, we fucked. That's what he called it, anyway. _Fuck, Cas, fuck me._ It was never sweet or slow, but hungry and fierce and down in the dirt. Sometimes, he looked almost sorry afterwards, and would kiss me tenderly. I wasn't sure how to explain that a fast fuck in Purgatory was still beautiful to me, because it was _Dean_.

 

Benny must have known, but he never remarked on it, to me at least. We had an uneasy, yet steady peace. I did, once, overhear him say to Dean, "Never took you for the bitch type, brother." 

Dean punched him in the face. It was forgotten.

 

I asked Dean about it once. "Bitch?" I questioned. 

Dean rolled his eyes. "Heard that, did ya?" He sighed. "It means who gets fucked up the ass." 

I frowned. "I see." 

"No you don't," Dean said, and pulled me to him in the darkness, enfolding me in his arms. I chewed my lip. Dean should rest. We would be moving again in less than an hour. 

Still, I asked, "Is that of import?" A chuckle, and then silence. "Do you want to fuck me?" 

His breath hitched, and I felt his muscles go rigid. Confusion washed over me. It had always seemed natural to me, that I should be the one to hold him down, to be inside him. God knows he wouldn't let anyone else do it. "Do you... Want me to?" Dean asked, sounding lost. 

I turned the question over. I certainly wasn't averse to the proposal. In fact, my cock twitched in my pants at the idea. The honest answer which came to me was, "Maybe." But I was unsettled at the suggestion that he found our current sexual arrangements uncomfortable somehow. 

"What the hell kind of answer is that?" He mumbled, voice quiet with sleep. 

"I... It never occurred to me." I said, snuggling back against him. His arms tightened around my middle. 

"Y'know what?" he said, his breath hot on my neck. "Me either." 

I smiled. "So you don't... You like being my bitch?" I inquired. 

"Shit Cas, don't talk like that when I'm trying to sleep!" He protested. "Especially not with Benny in the next clearing." I felt like I was missing something. Was that not how the word was used? It had been a while since we had had this familiar interaction, centring around my confusion of human terms. It was almost comforting. It spoke of a time before I had betrayed him, and before the betrayal I was planning now. "I like you fucking me," His voice cut into my thoughts. "OK? Thought that was pretty clear. I..." His voice got smaller with every word. "I love it when you take control." I grinned in the darkness. "Makes everything melt away," he trailed off, sleep overcoming him. 

From that day forward, I fucked him relentlessly, fast and hard, satisfaction curling in my gut at the knowledge he loved this game of surrender and _taking_ and beauty as much as I did.

 

 We were a day's walk from the Portal. This, I knew, would be the last night we'd spend together. And on this night, I had made up my mind that I would make love to him. There was, as I’d learned, a distinction between love-making and sex. 

Benny was sitting on his haunches against the trunk of a nearby tree, watching the sunset, an unreadable twist in his lips. With no explanation, I dragged Dean away by the hand. Benny gave me a single nod, and Dean followed after me, green eyes wide. 

When we were out of hearing range, I drew him to me, so close I could feel his heart slamming against his chest through our clothes. I pulled away for a moment, fighting the urge to tell him I was going to stay. If there was hesitation in my movements, he would see it. And I wanted the last time we made love to be as perfect as the circumstances would allow for. 

In the pause, he spoke. "Purity," he said. 

I blinked up at him, dragged out of my thoughts. 

"That's what I'm gonna miss." He grinned. "I mean, sure, it might be a dirty, bloody kind of pure... But it's the best kind I'm gonna get." There was a spark in his eyes, that prompted a soft smile from my lips. "It's simple. Do what you gotta do. And on top of it, I got you." His smile melted into something more serious, and before he could say something I couldn't stand, something about needing me, I dropped to my knees. 

He stared down at me wide-eyed as I yanked his pants open. We hadn't done this in the year we'd been here - it took too long, left us too exposed. Tonight, I didn't care. I licked up the length of his half hard member before taking it all in my mouth, massaging it with my tongue. He moaned at the familiar pleasure, his cock hardening in my mouth. I shot him a quick glance, which he understood to mean _keep quiet._ As much as I loved the sounds of his arousal, danger was always near. 

I bobbed up and down his length, stroking him with my hand in time with my movements. It was sloppy and he tasted like sweat, but his lips falling open in silent bliss, that was a sight I wouldn't forget. At one point, I saw he had clapped his own hand over his mouth to muffle his sounds. I grinned and hollowed my cheeks, swallowing him deeper into my throat. His hand came to rest in my hair, not controlling me, but feeling me move. 

When his dick was throbbing with the need for release, hanging heavy between my lips, I pulled off. He bit down on his lower lip. "On your knees," I said through gritted teeth. I spat on my hand and stroked my aching cock, before spreading his legs wider and slicking his hole up. He canted his hips back at me, desperate. There was never enough time to properly open him up, so the most we indulged in now was a sloppy, quick fingering. I had an inkling he didn't mind the pain. 

I thrust inside him, quickly pressing my lips to his back to avoid moaning. His dick jumped at the intrusion even as he winced. I reached around and jacked him, trying to mix the pain with pleasure, at least. With my other hand, I reached into his mouth with two fingers, a makeshift gag. I could feel the vibration of his helpless moans as he rocked up against me. He was on the edge of coming, I could tell. 

I deliberately slowed my thrusts, making them smooth and deep. I mouthed at his skin through the fabric of his shirt - I really should have remembered to take it off first. Then again, I was still wearing my battered trench coat with my pants around my knees. Old habits die hard. He bucked against me, desperate for more, but I wouldn't give it to him. I stroked his length slowly, and sighed softly into the muscles of his back. Even like this, neither of us could last long. He was too tight around me and his dick was already dribbling precum. 

Eventually, I gave into it, and let him push back against me as I thrust deep inside him. I tightened my fingers in his mouth as delicious sounds started flowing out of him, and he quieted. His cock spurted on the ground under us, and I grasped him tight, memorizing the solid feel of his bones and muscles and skin and heat. 

I came inside him, losing myself in the rolling waves of pleasure. Even after we were done and everything felt like too much, I rocked inside him, my still hard cock brushing against his prostate. Neither of us wanted this to end. 

 

And so when I let go of his hand, when I shouted, "Go!", I held the memory of having him, holding him, keeping him a little longer. It kept me going. It was _my_ purity.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I love hearing your honest thoughts and comments! <3


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